331. Robert Bloomfield and Hannah Bloomfield to James Bloomfield, 23 November 1818 

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The Letters of Robert Bloomfield and His Circle, Edited By Tim Fulford and Lynda Pratt
TEI

331. Robert Bloomfield and Hannah Bloomfield to James Bloomfield, 23 November 1818* 

Shefford, Nov. 23rd 1818

Dear James

I send you in Hannah's hand all I ever wrote of 'John Gosling', for I never could add another stanza. Your letter gave us great satisfaction. You may be proud of it or not, just as you please, but I am too old and too just to write lies by candlelight. I am truly glad that you have mended your income, and wish, as much as your father could, that your perseverance may insure you still better fortune. My love to Isaac and Bet, and believe me ever

Your wellwishing Uncle

Robt Bloomfield

N.B. the following is a gosling of my fathers own hatching

Come John Gosling, put your sunday cloths on
Gladly shall I see you stump across the green,
And I'll sing, dear John, by the couch that you repose on
And bring you such ale as was never never seen.
Come lift the latch John, let me see your face,
Who shall be so happy and so blest as I and you?
Here you'll see the leaves a shaking
Here you'll hear the pips a squeaking
Gabble, gabble, gabble, gabble, quack, quack, quack and cock a
doodle do—

Will you scold Betsy Howyes for me? I sent a scold by Charlotte, but I suspect she did not deliver it, or it had not the desired effect—

My Dear Cousin James,

The following blank side of this paper invites me to write you another song, and in this little space I must say how do ye to Bet and Isaac and yourself, it is no use to make believe this is a letter, but it will do to assure you that I sometimes think of you all, though it is nearly two years, since I saw your sister, pray give my love to her, and to Isaac and Sarah and little Isaac; and when you any of you write to your mother I beg to be kindly remembered to her, yrs HB

Song by Moore

Mary I believed thee true,
And I was bless'd in thus believing
But now I mourn that e'en I knew
A girl so fair and so deceiving
Few have ever loved like me,
O! I have loved thee too sincerely
And few have e'er deceived like thee,
Alas! Deceived me too severely.
Fare thee well.

Fare thee well, yet think awhile
O[n one] whose bosom bleeds to doubt [thee]
[Who now] would rather trust thy sm[ile]
[And die] with thee, than live without [thee]
[Fare thee] well, I'll think of thee,
Thou leavest me a bitter token
For see, distracting woman, see
My peace is gone, my heart is broken. [1] 

I cannot send you the tune unless I could pack up myself in this paper—but here is another gosling, just hatchd—

2

Here's my farm-yard, where the cows are lowing
Geese marching home with their cunning heads so high
My colts running wild, John, and noble graps are growing
And grey peas have fatten'd all the grunters in the stye
Come speak your mind John, let me see your face
What's the use of fuss and blushing when I write to you,
Here you'll see the leaves a shaking &c

Address: Mr Jam Bloomfield, / Messr Sawer & Co., / Foster Lane, / London

* Berg Collection, New York Public Library BACK

[1] Thomas Moore's words were published with sheet music as well as in his own collections. For example, Mary, I Believ'd Thee True. Scotch Song with an Accompaniment for the Pianoforte or Harp. The Poetry by Thos. Moore Esq. the Music composed by J.A. Stevenson, Mus: D. (Dublin, c.1806–10). BACK

Published @ RC

September 2009